


Dream Journal

by paper_ange



Category: South Park
Genre: Fluff, M/M, creek - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-08
Packaged: 2019-01-28 08:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12602668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paper_ange/pseuds/paper_ange
Summary: In a lucid dream, you're aware that you're dreaming, and you can control what happens in the dream. When Tweek learns this, he decides to make himself dream about a certain apathetic space nerd, but he quickly realizes that he doesn’t have as much control over the dream as he thinks.





	1. Lucid

**Author's Note:**

> I have lucid dreams every now and then, and this is how they play out for me. Basically, I’m putting Tweek in my position, because I used to do this. I’m just throwing this out there now so no one gets confused.

For certain classes, namely biology, I’ve made it a habit to study them at home because they were just too boring to pay attention to. Sure, I might end up panicking if I put off studying until the night before an exam, but I was confident enough in my memory to pull through if that ended up happening. My parents don’t really care if I excel in school, since they’re set on me taking over the cafe, anyway. If I knew how to make coffee, work a cash register, and carry heavy bags of coffee beans, then I was set. And since I had been doing all of those things since I was 8, I was more than set. Of course, I couldn’t slack on subjects like math, but this is biology we’re talking about. The business won’t fail if I can’t remember what the powerhouse of the cell was called.

When I was younger, this kind of mindset was unheard of to me. I used to be paranoid about everything, which led me to believe that every one of my actions could negatively impact my future. Maybe it was the meth in the coffee I had been drinking for the majority of my childhood, but that wouldn’t explain why I had lingering anxiety after I had convinced my parents to stop mixing it in the coffee. Either way, spending time with my “fake” boyfriend helped mellow me out. I say “fake” this way because I’m still confused about the nature of our relationship.

When I was 10, a group of Asian girls transferred to our school. Though I paid no mind to them at first, they certainly had my attention when they started drawing and selling artwork of myself in romantic (and sometimes sexual, but I’d rather not think about that) situations with my friend Craig. After what I thought was good acting, a wave of depression hit the entire town, which resulted in the two of us deciding to “get together”. 4 years later, we still kept up the act, though we never bothered to discuss whether or not we should continue. I was fine with that, but a part of me questioned why we never moved past the stage of holding hands. Scratch that, I knew why this was. It was because I didn’t have the balls to ask Craig what he thought of our relationship.

My mind became occupied with these thoughts, and my fingers were already pushing my notebook off of the composition book hiding underneath. I had pulled it out of my bag in advance in the event that I became too bored to focus, and that moment was now. I could care less about biology.

I hunched over my desk, opened the book, and flipped to the most recent page. This was my dream journal, which contained every interesting dream I had over the past year. And by interesting, I mean every time I had a dream about Craig. Unfortunately, this year’s journal only had about 7 entries, and it was almost November. And when I say “a dream about Craig”, I mean any dream, even if he only showed up as a background character. The page I was currently on depicted just that: the coffee shop had doors that were connected to the school for some reason, students kept swarming in, and Craig walked in and out in a span of 3 seconds. This occurred 2 months ago, which means I haven’t dreamt about Craig in 2 months.

Why I’m so insistent about dreaming of Craig stems back to my original problem of not being as close to him as I wanted to be. I knew when I was dreaming, and I knew that strange things happened in dreams, especially romantic situations, so I was waiting for a dream like that to come to me. If I could see how it would turn out in a dream, maybe I can act it out in reality.

Once the bell signaled the end of class, I prepared myself to walk to my next class along with Craig, but then Clyde suddenly entered my line of vision, his whole head blocking my view. Surprised by his sudden appearance, I slammed my journal shut.

“Tweek, my dude!” he called out, despite being right in my face.

“Y-yeah?” I answered, hoping that he didn’t see what was written in my journal.

“So uh… Can I maybe borrow your notes?” he said in a hushed tone, yet he was still in my face. “I maaaay have not been paying attention.”

Craig made his way over to my desk and pulled Clyde by the jacket collar to get him away from my face, claiming that he was making me uncomfortable. I smiled at him as a way to say thanks, which he returned with his usual deadpan nod.

“I, uh… I wasn’t paying attention either,” I admitted in the same hushed tone. I planned on catching up later, but that wouldn’t help him now.

Clyde cocked his head to the side and directed a raised eyebrow at me. He then picked up my dream journal, which caused me to jump from my seat. 

“So you weren’t writing notes in here?” he asked, somehow oblivious to my reaction. He began to open it, but I managed to swipe it away from him. Now I had his attention.

“Whoa, hey! Is that a diary or something?” His wide grin was making me uncomfortable, and I had to make sure his hands, which were coming closer, were kept away from me. I was fully aware that I was making myself appear suspicious, but there wasn’t much I could do about it now. Hopefully Craig could get him to leave me alone.

“So what is that, then?” Craig asked. I don’t know why I put my trust in him.

“It’s a dream journal,” I explained as I shoved it and my other notebook in my backpack. “I write down interesting dreams in here. It’s just for fun, I guess. I mean, I like to remember them if they were interesting.”

“That’s true!” Clyde chimed. “I have crazy weird dreams too, but I don’t think I’d remember that many details to be able to write them down, though.”

“I take it that you have lucid dreams a lot then, huh?” Craig assumed, though I didn’t know what he meant by that. I gave him a questioning look with a head tilt and a furrowed brow.

“Oh, uh… A lucid dream is when you’re aware that you’re dreaming. You can also control aspects of the dream, though I don’t know to what extent, since I’ve never had one. I kind of assumed you did because of how well you remembered your dreams.”

Was that true? I could’ve controlled my dreams this entire time? I could’ve made Craig appear in my dreams? This was definitely something I was going to have to try tonight.

Apparently, I made no effort to keep these thoughts from showing, because Craig and Clyde were giving me puzzled looks. It seems that I had been smiling and blushing while I was thinking. I was never one to keep my emotions inside, but this was one of the few times that I needed to do so. I suspect that the next person to speak up will be Clyde, and he will say something about me having dirty thoughts.

“Gonna try to make yourself have a wet dream tonight, Tweekers?” Clyde teased. Of course he did, though it’s not like he’s that far from the truth, which were actually PG intentions. But I didn’t let it bother me. All it takes is a glare to intimidate him, and he’ll step off immediately, so that’s what I did. He put his hands up to surrender and took a step back. I learned that one from Craig, who flashed me a proud smile for doing so.

Once I had put all of my things into my backpack, Craig took me by the hand and led me to my next class. I wanted to ask why he insisted on walking me to all of my classes, seeing how 1, I can take care of myself, and 2, we didn’t have to be attached at the hip to be seen as a couple. But I was afraid that if I did bring it up, he might say that he never considered that, think that it was a relief, then stop walking me to my classes. I didn’t want that to happen. I liked the feeling of his cold hands in my own. I especially liked the way our fingers intertwined when we walked, even if it was for a few minutes, being that my classes weren’t that far apart.

Like always, he dropped me off in front of the door, threw in a quick “see ya”, then walked to his own class. Even though I knew he would be back after class finished, I couldn’t help but miss him. Maybe it was because of the way we departed. I hoped that just once, he would linger just a little longer. I don’t know what we would do if he did, but this was just wishful thinking. I just wanted to be around him a little longer.

I settled into my desk and pulled out my dream journal again. Out of the 7 entries, there was one that I was particularly fond of. It was entry number 4, which actually involved me interacting with Craig. It referenced the fight I had with Craig due to some serious misunderstandings, but because I knew that I was just dreaming of this flashback, I didn’t try to fight him. Instead, I held up my fists to block, but I observed his movements to see how this would play out. Unlike the actual fight, Craig actually bothered to ask why I had insulted him and Stripe, though he continued to throw punches. Both his punch and my dodge were strangely slow. I explained how I didn’t do such a thing, and when I asked why he would call me a chicken in front of everybody, he said that he didn’t. We both came to the conclusion that the two of us were pinned against each other because of Cartman and his friends, so we attacked them instead. It was satisfying to get back at them, to say the least.

Thinking back on it, I did have some control over that particular dream. Maybe I was the one who stopped the original scene from playing out, and I made it so that we got back at the others, which I’ve always thought about doing. Of course, it wouldn’t make sense to do that now, since it’s been years, but still. Now that I knew that I could manipulate my own dreams, it was time to go home and test it out. Well, after school ends, and after Craig walks me home, which will just be another walk filled with casual conversation and awkward pauses. I didn’t mind walking in silence sometimes, as long as I had his hand in mind as we did so.

 

Just like how he dropped me off at my classes, he dropped me off at my doorstep with a quick “see you tomorrow” and walked off. Not even a hug or anything. Stupid Craig. But it’s not like I could complain. His house was much closer to the school, whereas mine was practically on the other side of town. Sure, this town was small, but I never understood why he would go through the effort of walking all the way over here when we could just drop him off at his house, and I can walk back alone. This was just another thing that I’ve always wanted to question, but again, there’s the fear of him breaking the routine if I brought it up. 

When I entered my bedroom, I headed straight for my laptop—well, Craig’s laptop. We had been playing first person shooters together in my room until one of my annoying twitches caused me to spill coffee all over my laptop, causing it to break. He left his laptop with me, his reasoning being that he had a desktop computer he could use and that I needed it more. This was just one of those moments when a rare “nice Craig” appeared. When I used that phrase, he threatened to take the laptop back if I told anyone about that, especially Clyde, who would bug him about it to no end. I’ve been fighting that urge for months now, because despite me having the biggest crush on him, seeing his stoic image crumble is always hilarious.

Anyways, back to the laptop. I began to do a little research on lucid dreams, and the things I found about how to trigger them were interesting. One of the tips instructed me to keep a dream journal, which I already did, so I didn’t have to worry about that. The next one was ironic. It said that I had to get a good night’s sleep, which almost never happened to me. On average, I would get about 4-5 hours of sleep, yet I had a lucid dream at least once a week. After reading a few more tips, I just decided to let whatever happens, happen. 

 

I spent the rest of my time assisting my parents at the shop and doing homework, leaving me with a good 8 hours left to sleep. But of course, I didn’t go to bed right away, because at 11 PM, the group chat always blew up. 80% of the time, it was Clyde whining about his problems, which were usually related to his love life in some way. The other 20% usually involves making plans or someone else’s problems, which was actually rare. If something was wrong with Token or Jimmy, they would usually tell us in person. As for Craig, no one really knew what his problems were. We could pick up signs that something was wrong with him sometimes, but he never really shared his problems with us. The gang had accepted this, so when Craig and I started “dating”, they always asked me about our relationship, knowing that Craig wouldn’t say much. Then again, there wasn’t much that I could say about our relationship either, seeing how the only thing that had changed was the fact that we spent more time together as compared to before. Oh, and the hand holding, walking everywhere together, spending a good chunk of our time hanging out together…

Now that I think about it, this was pretty strange. Sure, fake dating was already strange, but it was only a front. We only had to act this way when other people were around, so why did he spend time with me behind closed doors? We never did anything romantic, so what were Craig’s intentions? Is it possible that he actually enjoys spending time with me alone?

Nah, no way. Who would actually want to spend time alone with me? I’m not as paranoid and jittery as I used to be, but it’s not like I was particularly interesting or attractive. When Craig and I hang out, we usually just watch TV, play video games, do homework, and talk about random things. I’m not cool and rich like Token, I’m not funny like Jimmy, I’m not as entertaining as Clyde, and I definitely can’t come up with wild adventures like Cartman and his group can, so what gives? Does he feel obligated to get along with me to make fake-dating me more tolerable? I just didn’t understand.

I groaned loudly into my pillow. The group chat was filling up with Clyde whining about how Heidi Turner was being difficult about letting him be her rebound after finally breaking up with Cartman, which I still couldn’t understand why that didn’t happen earlier. I never really responded to the chat during Clyde’s moments, aside from the occasional “that sucks”. Since he was the type to hit send after every sentence, my phone was buzzing like crazy. I watched text after text pop up for another minute before silencing the chat for the night. It was almost 1 AM, and just about everyone was telling Clyde to shut up.

Finally, I turned in for the night and prayed for a lucid dream. Staring at my phone for so long made my eyes hurt enough to keep them closed, so I was able to fall asleep. I will never miss the childhood days of lying awake for hours on end. I never knew how great it felt to sleep. If only Craig were here.

 

I woke up standing in the middle of the school hallway. My surroundings looked a bit too realistic to be a dream, so I wandered around to see if there was anything out of the ordinary. The classrooms, hallways, and lockers were right where they should be, and students were walking around. Was I actually awake right now? I tested this by biting my index finger, but I didn’t feel anything. I bit harder to be extra sure, but nothing happened. No marks appeared either. Then I tried getting a closer look at the students. There were couples everywhere, or at least that’s the impression I got from the amount of people holding hands. 

Then I got a better look at the couples. Every single one of them were gay couples. In this fantasy world, Craig and I were no longer the only openly gay “couple”. Stan was holding hands with Kyle, Wendy with Bebe, Red with Nichole, Kenny with Butters, and… Token with Clyde? Now that was something I didn’t expect, even in a dream. But here’s the big question: where was Craig?

Everywhere I looked, there was nothing but couples, but not a single one had Craig in it. I mean, it’s a good thing that my brain isn’t trying to screw me over, but where was he? Then I had the urge to smack myself in the face. This was the part where I was supposed to make Craig appear. But how was I going to do that?

I held my hand out in front of me as if I were a superhero who was going to make a powerful beam shoot out of my hand, then I commanded “make Craig appear”. Nothing happened. I sighed, turned around, and that’s when I saw him. He had a blank expression on his face and stood perfectly still with his hands at his sides, almost like I had created a soulless doll. I tried getting a closer look at his face, but he startled me when he blinked, causing me to jump and take a step back. Suddenly, all of the couples stopped walking and faced me and Craig. Their stares made me very uncomfortable, but it didn’t phase Craig. If it weren’t for the fact that the real Craig would’ve reacted the same way, I would think that this was the real Craig standing before me.

“Can you speak?” I asked dream-Craig. He answered with a simple “mm-hm” before taking note of his surroundings. He was acting more like the real Craig by the second, especially by the way he put one hand in his pocket and pulled out his phone once. Again, I looked at the people around us. They continued to hold hands and stare at us.

“So…” Craig started, not paying our staring classmates any mind. “What did we do to gain all of this attention?” 

As if they were trying to give me a hint, all of the couples turned to each other, hugged, pulled apart, then stared at us once again. They turned to me, shifted their eyes towards Craig twice, then fixed their gaze on me again. Was this their way of telling me to hug Craig?

Craig put his phone back in his pocket and faced me.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. I don’t think he noticed the hints that everyone was dropping. I felt like I was in the Disney version of “The Little Mermaid”, and everyone around me was singing “Kiss the Girl”. Actually, I would’ve preferred that, since the people around me looked like a bunch of robots that might kill me if I didn’t act like them.

“Tweek?” Craig sounded genuinely worried. He held a hand out to touch me, but I impulsively grabbed it instead.

“Um…! Can I hug you?!” I nearly shouted at him. I felt one of my nervous ticks come up: the one where I begin to talk really fast. “I mean, you can say no if you want, but everyone looks like they’ll kill me if I don’t, so if you could say yes, that would be--”

He cut me off by pulling me close and wrapping his arms around me tightly. I was too shocked to hug him back, but once I glanced at the people around me, I saw that their stares were still focused on me. I returned Craig’s hug, then looked around again. Everyone was smiling, then they started walking off with their significant others. I spent a few more seconds enjoying the hug. It was nice, having Craig hold me like this. The only hugs that I’ve ever received from him were awkward one-arm hugs where you stand in front of someone, initiate a hug with one arm, but all you really do is pat them on the back twice and immediately step back. You only touch chests for a second, which I guess makes it “not homo”. 

When I tried to break the hug, Craig didn’t budge.

“Craig? You’re uh… I’m kind of trapped here…”

Dream-Craig released me, but he stood in place and stared directly into my eyes. The line between dream-Craig and real Craig was completely blurred right now. Maybe this was the part where I practice confessing to him?

“So, uh… This whole “fake dating” thing…”

“Tweek,” he interrupted. He grabbed my hand and held it up to our faces. “It’s time to wake up.”

“Wait, not yet! I still wanted to tell you--”

Craig pinched the skin on the back of my hand with his nails, and I actually felt it this time. He, along with the entire world, faded to black. I saw light peer through a small slit, which could only mean one thing. My dream had ended, and I was seeing the insides of my eyelids.

I opened my eyes slowly and tried to assess the situation. My alarm wasn’t going off, nor was it that bright in my room. If I had to guess, I would say it was close to 7 AM, but not quite. Checking the time on my phone confirmed that. It was a few minutes to 7. I was tempted to go back to sleep, but I didn’t want to be startled by my alarm, so I settled for sitting upright and staring at nothing for a while. Then I noticed to markings on my hand. Pinch marks. Okay, this was definitely going in the journal.

When I picked up my journal from my bedside table and flipped to the next available page, I received a text from Craig.

Craig: anything new for your journal?


	2. Practice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I’ve actually had a dream very similar to this, so this was pretty easy to come up with.

I turned off my alarm that rang for only a second, since I was already awake, but I didn’t open Craig’s message right away. I only stared at it from my lock screen so that my read receipt wouldn’t show that I’ve been trying to think of a response for the past 8 minutes. I knew that I shouldn’t prolong it for too long, since I have to start getting ready for school, but I didn’t know how to respond. First of all, why was he so curious about my journal? Was he thinking about how I reacted when he explained lucid dreaming to me? Oh god, was he going to assume that I really did have a wet dream and make fun of me for it???

Tweek: I wasn’t trying to have a wet dream, if that’s what you’re thinking.

It’s not that I truly thought that Craig would assume this, but I wanted to make sure that I kept the thought out of his mind. I didn’t want him to laugh at me and tell the guys, or worse, try to figure out who I was hypothetically thinking about. Even worse, what if he assumes it was him that I was trying to dream about?!

Before I could embarrass myself by typing out a text to prove that I wasn’t having dirty dreams about him, he sent me another text.

Craig: i wasn’t thinking that, but thanks for assuming that i have the same idiot mindset as clyde

Tweek: No, I didn’t mean that! It just bothers me that he would say that. It wasn’t right for me to assume. I’m sorry.

Craig: dont worry about it dude. so you wanna talk about weird dreams or what

I knew how I was going to respond to this message, but I wanted to make sure I understood what was going on. Right now, Craig is actually interested in discussing dreams with me, but I can’t say that I purposefully tried to dream of him. I definitely can’t say why I wanted to lucid dream, either. Maybe if I told him the strangest and most interesting part, he wouldn’t care about the rest of the story. 

Tweek: It was really weird. Everyone was dating each other, like, everyone was holding hands with someone else. And that’s not the weird part. Every single couple was gay.

Craig: oh shit no way

Craig: we’re the best gay couple in school tf why is everyone trying to steal our spotlight

I stared at the phrase “best gay couple” for a while. What did he mean by that? He’s probably being sarcastic, but I can’t help but feel that he was trying to hint at something with that. Did he actually think of us as an actual couple, or was he really just being sarcastic? He can be pretty sarcastic, so it’s not like that’s out of character for him. The urge to ask him what he meant by that was strong, but the fear of him denying it or possibly getting angry for assuming kept my fingers from typing. Then again, his next message was the one that pushed me over the edge.

Craig: so where was i? i stg if i’m dating anyone i hate in this dream

How the hell was I supposed to answer this?! If I just lie and say he wasn’t there, would he ask me to continue the story and make up more lies? If I tell him he was with me, would he ask if I was dreaming about him? Would he ask _why_ I was dreaming about him? What if he manages to break me with his questions and get me to accidentally tell him everything that happened? I typed out a response as fast as I could and went about my morning routine.

Tweek: I don’t think you were there. I didn’t see you, anyway. I’m gonna get ready to leave, so I’ll talk to you later.

Craig sent a simple “k”. I tossed my phone onto my bed and started digging through my closet for something that didn’t make me look like a hot mess. At the far end of my closet, my fingers grazed on something that I hadn’t seen in a while: a dark green knit sweater. This was the sweater that Craig had gotten me for Christmas last year when his parents insisted that he get his boyfriend something nice for tolerating him for all these years. It was paid for with their money, too. I was so appreciative that I wore it every day, until summer rolled around, making it too hot for me to even look at. Not that South Park ever stopped snowing, but summers came with a mix of a cool breeze, accompanied by the blazing rays of the sun. You would think that all of the snow would’ve melted if that were the case, but this town had its ways of keeping its identity, that being the never ending snow and strange occurrences. But now that it’s November, I can proudly wear my favorite sweater again. I yanked the sweater off of the hanger and pulled it over a brown button up top that I had spent a good few minutes trying to button properly, but my hands kept shaking, causing me to miss a few buttons. Then again, it’s not like anyone will see it under my sweater. 

When I took a seat at the dining table, my mom put down a mug of coffee for me. She knew I was trying to cut my addiction, but I’m pretty sure that she thinks that I’m hurting the family business by not endorsing our product. That’s what I got from the face she gives me when I refuse, that is. At least it’s safe to drink now, and it tastes much better than it did before, but I still believe that cutting my addiction can help me become more...normal? I don’t really know, but it makes sense to me.

“Are you going to walk to school by yourself, or will Craig come pick you up?” my mom suddenly spoke up. She never really talked when she cooked, but she always takes the opportunity to hear details about my relationship. She’s probably more excited about the big kiss than I am, and she might just be waiting for the day where she can watch us kiss goodbye or something. Parents are always embarrassing, but parents who obsess over your gay relationship are a whole different story. 

“He’s not coming here,” I answered. “He lives close to the school, so there’s no point in walking all the way here and back.”

“But the same could be said about walking you home, right?” she pointed out, the sound of sizzling sausage links drowning out her voice. 

I responded with an “I guess” before turning my focus to my coffee, which I’ve been drinking very slowly. I took a whiff of the pleasant smell of sausage and eggs wafting through the room and thought about my dream journal. I remembered the dream clearly enough to write about in great detail, though I’m going to have to write it out later, since I don’t think I’ll have enough time after breakfast to do so.

My dad walked out of his bedroom and made his way over to the table. I braced myself for more questions about my relationship when he greeted my mother and I.

“Craig hasn’t been over in a while,” he noted, taking a sip out of the mug that my mom placed in front of him. “Are you making sure to be nice to him?”

“We’re fine,” I said, fighting the urge to let out any hint of displeasure from his comment. “He doesn’t have to spend every waking moment with me, you know.”

He let out a chuckle and began staring into his coffee as if it were telling him what to say. It was always weird when he did that, but I’m not about to question it when I do the same thing sometimes. Stare into my coffee, that is. The color and the smell relaxes me, but my determination of breaking my addiction makes me uneasy from just looking at it.

When my mom placed my breakfast in front of me, I stared at it for a moment, trying to decide whether to scarf it down to see Craig faster, or eat at a normal pace and meet up with him whenever. I’m always happy to see him, but I didn’t want to continue our conversation about my dream. I settled on eating at a normal pace. 

After I finished getting ready, I stood in front of the mirror one last time. My eyes looked a bit brighter today. I still had lingering dark circles from all of the previous late nights though, despite having a decent night’s rest last night. The hair that I combed back earlier in an attempt to look neater was already undoing itself by the way that several tufts were sticking up again. It looked more like a bed head than an electric shock, so that’s something. My skin looked as pale as ever, though it’s not like I intended to do anything about it. I wasn’t happy with the way I looked, but it was decent, so I left it at that. 

I spotted Craig across the street after a few minutes of walking. Neither of us were anywhere near our houses, so I didn’t know what his intentions were. I called out to him and waved, which caught his attention. He stood in place and held out a gloved hand for me to hold, like always.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, taking his hand in mine. He answered with a shrug and began taking note of my appearance.

“You haven’t worn that in a while,” he said, his eyes fixated on my sweater. He turned away and led me towards the school.

“Oh, well, uh… It was getting cold again, so…” The fact that I wore it because he gave it to me almost slipped out, so I ended my answer there. But as I expected, he brought up the dream again.

“Anything else happen in your dream, or did you wake up right away?” He used the same monotone voice, though I could sense a hint of interest in it. He must’ve been curious about lucid dreaming, seeing as how he was the one to bring it up the first time. I wonder if he ever had one? And if he did, what did he dream about?

“Well, all of the couples were ordering me around, but with their stares. Like, they had these death stares that made me do what they wanted because I thought they might kill me.” I shivered at the thought of being killed in my own dream. I mean, I don’t think you’ll die in real life, but it’s not a pleasant thought. The whole situation was creepy, and as strange as South Park was, I couldn’t deny the possibility of this happening at some point. Asian girls painted me with my hands up Craig’s shirt for God’s sake! You can’t rule out anything!

Craig glanced over at me as we walked and watched as my body suddenly started shaking from re-living the situation, even though I knew it was just a dream. He started rubbing his thumb on what he can reach on the back of my hand in an attempt to calm me. This was one of his many solutions of dealing with me when I stress out, along with allowing me to vent. I’m honestly surprised that he has the patience to deal with that. Not even my parents listen to my frustrations, who instead try to distract me with coffee or just leave the conversation.

“What were they making you do? Or do you not want to talk about it?” he asked. “It might make you feel better to talk about it so you won’t end up stressing about it on your own, but it’s really up to you.” 

Craig was the type to push something when he was really curious, but he never took it too far if I was truly uncomfortable. The fact that not talking about it was one of the options made me relieved, and that was one of the reasons why I loved him. I’m sure he had his moments of kindness around others, but I can’t help but feel special when he allows me to put my trust in him and help me with my problems. Then again, that could just be me being conceited. I’m sure I’m not the only one he acts this way around. I feel stupid just thinking about it.

“I’d rather not talk about it, but thanks anyway.” I really didn’t want to have to change my story to keep up with my lies. I sent him a nervous smile, though when he caught it from the corner of his eye, he turned away quickly. He started pacing faster, too, making it more difficult for me to catch up. I wasn’t in the mood to run right now, especially since we weren’t late, so I did my best to stand upright and speed-walk along with him. What’s gotten into him?

Upon reaching the stairs to the school, we saw Clyde chatting with Heidi by the front doors. Craig hinted that he wanted to see what would happen when he stopped walking, yet he kept his grip on me. Being curious myself, I stood by his side and watched a possible rejection take place. I knew the story from both sides, anyway. From the times that I’ve spoken with Wendy and Bebe, I’ve learned that they, along with the rest of their friends, have been trying to convince Heidi to open her eyes and see that Cartman doesn’t care about her. Apparently, she was convinced that she could help him with whatever was going on, and the fact that he never tried to break up with her meant that he cared about her too. Finally seeing the truth must have been hard for her, so I doubt she’s in any position to talk to any other guy right now. In reality, Stan and Kyle told Wendy that Cartman doesn’t actually like her anymore, but they can’t figure out why he won’t break up with her. From what I’ve seen, he always looks so defeated and tired when he’s with her, but I haven’t seen her do anything wrong. I think Cartman is just horrible with communication and talking about feelings, which I’ve learned is very important to girls. It’s important to me too, so I can’t help but wonder what Craig would be like if he was more open about his feelings. It’s great that he lets me talk about my feelings, but I want to help him too.

We watched Clyde, who appeared to have dressed up a little for this moment, put on his best smile and compliment Heidi on how beautiful she looked today. Then we watched Heidi rub her arm and turn her head away from him with an apologetic look on her face. She noticed us watching and waved, which led to Clyde shooting us a surprised, yet annoyed look. She took that opportunity to slip away and enter the school.

“Good job, guys. You made her feel awkward and run away,” Clyde complained, folding his arms across his chest and pouting. 

“You should probably stop,” I advised. “She’s not ready to be in a relationship just yet. You know what happened between her and Cartman.”

“But _she_ broke up with _him_. Doesn’t that mean she’s over him?”

“The girl was in denial for years,” Craig added. “You’ve seen the way they interacted. It must’ve taken a lot of willpower to get past all of that denial. Just drop it, for your sake and hers.”

Clyde huffed and turned away from us. 

“God, I hate when you’re right. Why do you have to be so logical all the time?”

Craig only shrugged in response, and the three of us entered the school together. Clyde quickly returned to his normal self and began enthusing about Christmas, even though we were barely into November. Clyde had been skipping Thanksgiving because eating at the table with only his dad was too sad for him. At least during Christmas, he sees his mother’s relatives, which makes him feel a little better. We just don’t bring it up. Teasing Clyde can be funny sometimes, but there are just some topics you do not want to touch, even if he’s being an ass.

Once Clyde left for his own class, Craig and I were left alone together again. We didn’t have our first class together, so he walked me to mine like usual, only this time, he didn’t leave right away. He had released my hand, but he stood in front of me without looking me in the eye. I stared at him questioningly. He faced me and tried to reach out to me, but he then brought his hand back to his side. He tried to do the same thing again, seeming conflicted about what to do. I stood in place and waited for something to happen. Finally, he took a step towards me and slowly wrapped his arms around me. When I felt him pull away, I quickly returned the hug, which prevented him from leaving. We stayed like this for a few seconds before he pulled away again. When he did, he gave me a confused look. I noticed that his cheeks were tinted red. Was he...blushing?

“See ya,” he said, spinning on his toes and walking off. I was still frozen in place. I’m sure that my entire face was red, because I was feeling incredibly warm. What was that all about? A hug? A legitimate hug, and not the “awkward-one-arm-one-pat-on-the-back” hug? Am I actually awake right now? I pinched the back of my hand in the same place that dream-Craig had before and felt a sting. I was clearly awake, which means what just happened actually happened. Holy shit.

“Dude, you’ve been watching Craig leave for 3 minutes now,” said Token, who had been standing behind me without my knowledge the entire time. “Sheesh. When Clyde said you two have gotten ridiculously gay over the years, he wasn’t kidding.”

“You don’t have to watch,” I retorted with a hint of snark that caused Token to respond with “so sassy”, though there was no malice in his voice. Craig and I didn’t show enough PDA for the guys to get pissed off at us, and they’re pretty supportive of our “fake” relationship, so I didn’t worry if I was making them uncomfortable or not. If us holding hands makes you uncomfortable, then that’s just you being homophobic. I won’t apologize for that. Thankfully, that had not been an issue upon entering middle school or high school. The entire town of South Park was rooting for us, after all.

When I took my seat, I pulled out my dream journal and wrote out the details of my dream as quickly as I could before class started. Remembering the hug from both the dream and a few minutes ago had me chewing on the insides of my cheeks to stop the smile from coming out. The two were pretty similar. Both were sudden, and both were the same kind of hug, but the recent one was actually real, so I could still feel his warmth lingering on my body. I could feel his heartbeat and smell a faint cologne. I soon realized that I had been writing the details of the actual hug in the journal, though I didn’t bother scratching it out. Not that anyone was going to read it, but I added an arrow and a bracket around the text anyway, indicating that this happened in real life. 

The rest of the class went by with me half paying attention and half me waiting to ask Craig what the hell happened earlier, but when that time came, I lost my confidence. He seemed to have reverted back to his previous ways, because we followed our usual school routine of holding hands and casual conversation. Not a single thing that came out of his mouth could prompt me to bring up the hug. I was lucky to be holding his hand at this point.

This next class was one that we shared, so when I sat down, he stood by me, though we didn’t speak. He just hung around my desk and scrolled through Instagram. Occasionally, he would show me comics by an artist who drew their daily life with their guinea pig, which he had been obsessing over for the past month. While Craig was busy pointing out that the artist tried to sneak her guinea pig to school, Clyde snuck up behind him to jab at the side of his waist. Craig cried out in pain and punched Clyde in the stomach. This was their way of joking around, so I wasn’t concerned about their behavior. However, I had decided to always be on Craig’s side, so I waved him over for a secret.

“Remember when I said that my dream had only gay couples?” I whispered.

“Oh, shit. Was Clyde there?”

“Yeah, holding hands with _Token_.”

We both faced Clyde with a clearly suspicious smile playing on our lips. Once he recovered from Craig’s punch, he noticed our smiles and squinted at us.

“What kind of gay shit are you guys up to?” Clyde asked, unamused with the purposeful look our faces.

“Don’t worry about it,” Craig replied, fake-coughing out the phrase “gold digger”. From the way that Clyde continued to ask what was going on, it was safe to assume that he didn’t know what Craig had said. 

Soon, the bell rang, which prompted them to go to their seats: Clyde to my left, and Craig behind me. We arranged it this way because Clyde assumed that he could copy off of my notes, but when he found out that I didn’t like biology enough to pay attention, he gave up on that. He didn’t bother to do anything about it, though. As for Craig, I chose to sit in front of him to prevent myself from staring at the back of his head the entire time. I mean, I was already distracted, but I didn’t want to make it obvious. Plus, there was always the possibility of him turning around to ask me something, and he might catch me staring at him.

 

After a day of just following the same old routines and having an internal battle with my thoughts, I was exhausted. Nothing new happened, nor did I ever gather the courage to ask Craig anything that I’ve been screaming in my head about. The only thing out of the ordinary that happened was that he asked if I was okay when he dropped me off at my doorstep. I suddenly remembered that our conversations today ended abruptly several times, since every time I answered a question or responded to something that he said, my responses were very short. Basically, I just answered with “yeah”, or “that’s cool”, or anything that sounds like I’m not interested. I didn’t want to show him that he was boring me, but I was still stressing out over everything, after all. I assured him that I was fine, then hurried inside to prepare for work. That probably didn’t convince him, but who cares right now. Everything will be okay when I dream tonight. I hope.

 

At the end of the day, I went to bed without looking at the group chat, which blew up like usual. I didn’t even bother to check what was the topic for today. It still seemed unlikely to me, but I decided to follow the lucid dream tips of getting a good night’s rest. The amount of overthinking I did today certainly made me mentally exhausted, so falling asleep was no problem.

Today, the dream world didn’t even try to trick me into thinking I was awake. As soon as I took one step forward, the entire world faded to white, save for a staircase. I could tell that I was back in the school, since the staircase was familiar to me: white tiles with a black speckled design and faint footprints from all that had stepped on them. This staircase required you to stop after a set of steps, make two lefts, then continue upward. After the first set of steps, I crossed paths a girl with bobbed black hair and a light blue dress. I didn’t recognize her right away until she started walking towards me. It was one of the Asian girls from elementary school. She looked my age, though she, nor anyone in her group, went to my high school. She walked up to me with a sketchbook in her hands. I shuddered at the sight of it.

“Hello, Tweek!” she greeted with a smile that meant no harm, but I couldn’t help feeling nervous about it. 

“Hi...” I replied awkwardly. I tried to shuffle past her and continue up the stairs, but she blocked my path. She held the sketchbook up to her face, covering her mouth, but I could still sense that smile underneath.

“You and Craig are precious!” she gushed. “I want to draw more of you two together!”

I was beginning to lose my patience. Wasn’t I done with this after 4th grade? I didn’t want to have to shove her aside, but she wasn’t making it easy for me to suppress the urge. I wonder if it’s possible to control this part of the dream.

“Hey, can you go away?” I asked, not bothering to hide my hostility. It’s not like I hated her, though. In fact, I liked seeing her work sometimes. But her presence was just a reminder that all of the things she and her friends drew were things that I wanted to happen, but none of it was happening.

“Of course,” she complied. “It’s your dream, after all. Make sure to tell him how you feel, okay?” With that, she vanished in thin air, and I had to remind myself that this was, in fact, a dream. The real person didn’t know what I was struggling to do, nor did she have the ability to disappear at will, but it was still surprising to witness.

I turned to the next set of stairs, only to find yet another Asian girl hanging her artwork on the walls. This was a different one, since she had the tips of her hair dyed red and… cat ears? I wasn’t going to ask. Instead of telling her to cut it out, I found myself staring at her work. It was tame enough for me to handle, seeing how they were only stage 1 relationship acts like gazing into each other’s eyes or kissing. What surprised me was the fact that I was the one initiating those actions, because in my imagination, I usually let Craig do the work. Was this their way of telling me to take charge if I wanted anything to happen?

She seemed to be heavily focused on hanging her artwork because she ran into me. She panicked at first, but upon seeing who I was, her eyes lit up.

“Tweek!” she exclaimed happily. “You’re looking at my work! Do you like it? I was thinking about selling it--”

“Please, don’t,” I cut her off. “The town is finally starting to get off of our backs about this whole thing. Don’t start something again.”

She pouted, but she didn’t take down the drawings. She handed me a pink plastic binder with the rest of her work and began to saunter off until called out to her to come back.

“Why do you draw stuff like this, anyway? Like, why are you so obsessed with our relationship?”

“I don’t draw you guys as much as I used to,” she answered. “This is your imagination, not mine. I mean, you guys are super cute and all, but I have other muses now.”

“My imagination? Are you shitting me right now?”

I mean, I won’t lie. I have been imagining the scenarios depicted in the artwork, but it’s not like I wanted the town to be covered in them again. I realized that I was in love with Craig the day he suggested that we pretend to date for the town’s sake. I knew it was just pretending, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice being so close to him was. I enjoyed spending time alone with him, even if we didn’t do anything particularly couple-like. Just two guys hanging out. One that was desperately in love with the other, and one that… well… who knows what that guy was thinking? I sure didn’t. At times, I’ve debated whether or not to ask the other guys if being friends with Craig for so long meant that they knew some things about him that I didn’t.

“A lovestruck boy thinking about his boyfriend! That’s great inspiration!” she squealed out of the blue. I sighed as she left in a hurry, then opened the binder she handed me. As expected, there were more drawings inside, but there was a blue sticky note attached to a sheet protector that covered another drawing.

“I wanna ruin our friendship. We should be lovers instead. I don't know how to say this, 'cause you're really my dearest friend,” it read.

“Really? Song lyrics?” I said aloud, even though no one was around. It was that one song about a girl who was in love with her best friend, and the entire song couldn’t represent my relationship more accurately. I wanted to say something similar to this to Craig, but I wasn’t about to start singing to him. That would be incredibly awkward.

“Appear in front of me, Craig,” I commanded. This was the one of the only things I was capable of doing. Making people appear and disappear, I mean. Getting them to do anything else was beyond my capabilities.

Craig appeared on the stairs like I asked, though unlike before, he looked more alive. He looked bored, which wasn’t out of the ordinary, but unless I was deluding myself, I swear that his eyes lit up when he saw me.

“Hey, dude,” he said, seeming a bit happier(?) to be in my presence. “You wanted to practice saying something to me, right?”

I blinked at him in confusion. How did he know my intentions already? Then I realized why he was here. How did I keep forgetting that I was in a dream? We were standing on the stairs of the school, which was the only thing in this environment that had any detail to it. This had to be a dream, so why was I so nervous around a Craig that wasn’t even real? I took a deep breath to prepare myself.

“I wanted to ask you something. It’s nothing bad, don’t worry. It’s just… uh…”

My voice trailed off as I directed my attention to the floor. The Craig that stood before me wasn’t real. I knew that, but this situation was too realistic. I forced my irrational nerves back and took another breath before facing Craig again.

“How much longer do we have to pretend to date?” I finally asked, though a bit louder than I intended.

Dream-Craig seemed shocked. His eyes widened and his eyebrows arched upward.

“Are you breaking up with me?” he asked, now looking worried. Would the real Craig even act like this, or was this what I hoped Craig would say?

“No,” I clarified. “I just wanted to know if you, uh… If you wanted to make this a real thing? Us being a real couple, I mean.” I faced the ground again and braced myself for his answer, though from the way that dream-Craig reacted a second ago, my brain might just try to appease me. I was starting to believe that this might not be a very effective method.

“Do you like me?”

I was taken aback by this question, unsure of how to respond. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t the real Craig, and whatever I decide to say or do isn’t a true prediction of what will happen in real life.

“Yes,” I answered. “I’ve liked you for years, actually.” That last part wasn’t necessary because he didn’t ask, but saying so lifted a huge weight off of my chest.

I waited eagerly for his response, but he only gave me a nod.

“Time’s up,” he said, reaching for my hand to pinch me again. I stepped back and moved my hand away.

“Agh, don’t bother,” I huffed. “I’ll do it myself.”

I bit the side of my index finger and watched the stairs crumble and fall into the void underneath me, but I didn’t fall with them. This was probably my brain’s way of telling me that it hasn’t come up with the rest of the scenario, or it just wants me to try it out in the real world already. Regardless, I was back to seeing a plain white ceiling as I lied awake on my bed. Without bothering to turn and face it, I tried to feel for my phone on the table and send a message to Craig.

Tweek: Sorry for texting you so early, but can I talk to you for a bit before school? Whenever you feel like meeting up?

His response was almost immediate. For someone that values their sleep, he’s been waking up early lately, I’ve noticed.

Craig: yeah, sure. i can come to your house around 8.

Tweek: I’ll be here, then.

I slammed my phone onto the bed and faced the ceiling again. Craig will be here at 8. I have about one hour to prepare myself for the big question. This will make or break our relationship.

_Holy shit, am I ready for this?!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact 2: While Tweek can make people appear and disappear in his dreams, I’ve only mastered the art of hovering awkwardly on my back and waking up by biting on my hand like Eren from AoT.
> 
> Two chapters down, one or two to go? I'm not sure yet. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed!


	3. Initiate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, we're at the end! Please enjoy the final chapter to this ridiculous story, and thank you everyone for your support!

There was no time for goofing off. I’ve been daydreaming, or rather, stressing out about the situation for 20 minutes now. It’s 7:18, and I’ve gotten nothing accomplished. I’m not even dressed. I probably look like a mess right now. In an attempt to smoothly hop out of bed, I ended up falling off and smacking into the carpet.

Lying face down on the floor made me think of something: is it too late to bail? We can always go back to our usual fake dating routine. I don’t have to ruin our friendship just because of a stupid crush. We can just chat, hang out, and hold hands like before. There’s no need to ruin what we already had.

I stared at my phone and sighed. Another 5 minutes had passed, and I was nowhere near ready. This wasn’t like asking someone you’re already dating if they’d go to prom with you, because unless you did something really shitty, or they can’t go, the answer is obviously yes. This was a boy asking another boy if they want to end their 4-year fake relationship and start dating for real because one of the boys wants to desperately kiss the other, but he doesn’t know how the other will react, and now the boy is going crazy because he’s worried about possibly losing the other boy if he acts on his selfish desires.

I let out my frustrations by lying face down on the floor again and groaning loudly into the carpet. My parents wouldn’t care, anyway. They never did. After another few minutes passed, I flipped onto my back and sat up. It was almost 7:30, I was still in my pajamas, I haven’t eaten, my morning breath probably reeks, and I was still not doing anything about it.

When I decided that it was time to get my ass off the floor, I stood up to get ready. Since I had less time due to my procrastinating and panicking, I pulled out the first thing I could find: a green and white plaid shirt and some dark blue jeans. I may have been in a hurry, but I wasn’t going to show up in front of Craig like a fashion disaster. Not that fashion really concerned me, but even I can point out what doesn’t go together. I held the outfit in front of me in the mirror, decided that it was decent, then tried to button up the shirt as fast as I could, soon cursing about not grabbing a t-shirt when the buttons weren’t cooperating. I combed back my messy hair, but it ended up sticking up into small spikes again. I knew that I should brush my teeth after breakfast, but there was no time. I forcefully brushed them now and decided to chew some minty gum or something later. Then I rushed down the stairs for breakfast.

“Hey, Tweek,” my dad greeted when I shoved myself into a chair and picked up a fork to shovel my food down. “Did you oversleep? That’s a first.”

I nodded as I cut a chunk out of my waffle and forced myself to eat it as quickly as possible. As much as I enjoyed sleep now that I reduced my coffee consumption by more than half, the part of me that always woke up on time, even before my alarm sometimes, was still there. I didn’t like the idea of being late for school, because walking into class after it had already started is really awkward. If coming back from the bathroom earns you a stare from all of your classmates, imagine showing up late and having the same thing happen, but now you have to fill out a tardy slip while your teacher glares at you for disrupting class!

But in this situation, I wasn’t even close to being late. School didn’t start until 9, and the only reason I was rushing is because I didn’t want my parents to answer the door when Craig gets here. The ideal situation was me getting out of here as soon as possible and meeting Craig outside my house before he gets a chance to walk up the steps to the front door. And then we’ll… wait. What happens after that? Where will we go? I don’t want to ask him in front of my doorstep. What if my parents hear? Should we walk and talk? What if we end up walking too fast, and we end up at school before I get a chance to ask? Or what if the worst case scenario happens, and he rejects me? What will I do then? Continue to walk with a painfully awkward silence? Run to school and avoid him for the rest of the day? Go back home and sulk about it?! This is too much pressure!

“Honey, I think Tweek needs some coffee today,” my dad called out, completely oblivious to the fact that coffee never calmed me down. “He’s spazzing out again.”

I bit my lip to keep myself from scolding my father for not caring about my feelings. My mom walked over to the table with the coffee carafe and started to pour me a mug. I wanted to refuse, but she had already walked all the way over here, so I sat quietly and focused on finishing my food.

With only 2 minutes left before Craig arrived, I managed to stumble into the bathroom to brush my teeth and fix myself up in the mirror again, grab my things, then ran through the front door. I stood on my doorstep out of breath for a second, then tried to compose myself. The cold air that slipped under the sleeves of my thin shirt made me realize something important: my dumb ass forgot to grab a sweater. With my favorite brown sweater in mind, I looked for any sign of Craig approaching, checked my phone for any possible missed messages, then hurried back inside. My footsteps echoed loudly as I, despite having short legs, leaped up the stairs two steps at a time. Please, please, please don’t let Craig get here before I get back.

I grabbed the sweater and shoved my arms through the sleeves on the way down the stairs. Once I swung open the door, I was met with a fist in front of my face. I quickly realized that I was not under attack because it was just Craig holding up his fist to knock on the door.

“Oh, hey,” he said, surprised by my wide eyed reaction to him. At the sound of his voice, my parents practically burst out of the kitchen to see Craig.

“Well hello, Craig!” my mom greeted. They still got excited whenever he came over. Craig might not mind, but I sure as hell do.

“It’s been awhile since you’ve stopped by,” my dad pointed out. “Can you believe that this guy was just going to leave without you?”

I shot an annoyed look at him, but he paid no mind to it. His attention was on Craig, who I assumed he only cared about because his son has been acting more “normal” ever since they started “dating”. During our “breakup” from the acting fiasco, he was the one who was the most distressed over the situation, so who knows how he’ll act if things don’t go well with Craig today. Actually, scratch that. This is about me, not him. I don’t care if he gets upset. He’ll get over it. Now how I’ll get over it is a different story. If anything bad happens, I mean, which I hope nothing does.

“We’re just gonna head out now,” I called out as I hurried outside. To my surprise, Craig didn’t bother to move out of the way when I closed the door behind me. He didn’t seem to notice that the distance between us had shrunk greatly, either. When I looked up at his face, he appeared in a daze. I stayed in place, curious to see if he was just spacing out.

“Craig?” I asked.

“Hm?”

“Are you, uh… Are you okay? You’re just standing there.”

Craig blinked a few times before taking a step back. He shoved one hand into his pocket and held out the other for me to take. When I took it, our eyes were both focused on our linked hands.

“What did you need to talk about?” he asked.

I looked back at my door suspiciously. They’re watching, aren’t they? I then started to drag Craig towards the school, making sure to take the long way. Once we were completely out of sight from my parents, I stopped walking. The two of us stood in front of the gate of a currently empty playground.

“How much longer do we have to pretend to date?” I asked, just like I did in my dream. I kept my gaze on the sidewalk to avoid seeing any hint of a possible rejection, but I continued to hold his hand. I wanted to feel his warmth for just a little bit longer. A part of me heard “are you breaking up with me” in my head, and the other part heard “we can stop now”. In reality, neither of these things were said.

“If you can tell me why, we can stop pretending.”

His answer was vague. It didn’t sound like relief or worry, and his tone didn’t give any hints. It’s as if he created a response that would accept a positive or a negative outcome, which didn’t tell me anything about what he was thinking. Does he want us to stay together, or not? This is so typical of him.

“I just don’t want to pretend anymore,” I answered, deciding to also keep it vague. Maybe this way, he’ll have to give me an answer, or at least give me anything that can tell me how he feels about me. I know I just had that whole dream about taking initiative, but trying to beat Craig at his own game seemed more entertaining somehow.

“So what does that mean? Do you like me, or are you tired of putting up with me?”

“Do _you_ like me, or are _you_ tired of putting up with me?”

“God dammit, Tweek! Do you like me or not?!”

My eyes widened as a blush colored my cheeks. When I faced him, he was blushing as well. He stared at me and waited for my answer, but I was too surprised to come up with anything to say. My heart was pounding so loudly that I couldn’t hear what was going on around me.

“I-I…” I stuttered, feeling warmer by the second. He asked what I thought of him while blushing. That’s good, right? That means he likes me, right? Oh god, I hope I’m right…

“I want to go out with you!” I exclaimed. “For real!”

Craig was stunned into silence, his mouth hanging open slightly, and his blush growing bigger. He pulled his other hand out of his pocket and used it to bury his face in.

“Are you serious…? How long?”

I thought back to the moment I had fallen for Craig. When he told me that I should go be gay with someone else, I wasn’t too upset at first. On the way back to my house, those words replayed in my head again and again. I didn’t want to be gay with someone else. I wanted to be with the person who believed in me, but more importantly, made me believe in myself. I was in love with the person I hurt, and I wanted to be the one who fix all of his problems. I fell in love with the person who held out their hand for me one day and told me that he would pretend to date me.

“Almost 4 years,” I answered.

“4 years…” he repeated.

Without another word, Craig slowly began leading us to the school. While we walked, I stared at the back of his head, wondering why he didn’t give me an answer. I mean, he’s not good with communication, so maybe this kind of reaction was meant to show that he did want to go out with me...right?

“Craig…” I spoke up, suddenly growing impatient. “I hope I’m not asking for a lot, but…”

My nerves were closing up my throat. The answer was obvious, but I couldn’t help wanting to hear him say it out loud. I need verbal confirmation right now, not a guessing game that’s left to my interpretation. 

“What is it?” he asked, stopping to face me. His normally stoic face had completely disappeared. He may have been facing me, but his gaze kept wandering to different places to avoid eye contact. His blush wasn’t as widely spread as before, though it was still present. He was taking deep breaths through his nose, which I could see by the way the air came out white from the cold weather.

“I told you that I’ve liked you for years. Um… what about you?”

“I guess I started thinking about you differently for some time,” he confessed. “I don’t know, maybe 2 years now? But 4 years? Wow… How did I not notice? I mean, last year, I had the sudden urge to kiss you, but you screamed and backed away so fast that I thought I had freaked you out. Then for a while now, I thought you might’ve been acting nervous around me because you finally liked me back, so I hugged you, and you hugged me back, so—“

“Wait, wait, hold on!” I demanded, ending his uncharacteristic babbling by slapping my hand over his mouth. 

I tried to recall the moment he was referring to. I remembered watching a movie with the gang at Token’s, who gave us the couch to cuddle on, or however Clyde put it, while the rest of them sat on bean bags. We sat one person apart, but halfway through the movie, Craig suddenly appeared in front of me.

“Oh my god,” I mumbled as I put a hand to my forehead. “We were watching a scary movie, and you decided to jump up right in my face? Of course I would freak out, you idiot!”

“I… Okay, I guess my timing isn’t the best,” he admitted.

I took my hand back and used both hands to cover my face in disbelief and embarrassment. I missed a chance to kiss Craig because of bad timing? Are you fucking serious right now?!

“Hey, so…” he interrupted. “If I try to kiss you right now, you’re not gonna freak out, right?”

Shit. I didn’t fucking practice kissing him in any of my dreams. 

“No,” I answered. 

I looked up at him, hoping he would take initiative, then gently reached for his hand with my fingers. He took it, intertwined our fingers, and cupped my cheek with his other hand. I knew that this was the part where I was supposed to close my eyes, but my dumbstruck ass just stared at him wide-eyed. I was going for a look of determination, but I’m pretty sure I looked like a vibrating tomato from the way I was shaking and blushing furiously. But I kept my focus on him, so that’s a start.

“Close your eyes, idiot! You’re making me nervous!”

“Agh! Just kiss me already, you coward!”

I didn’t expect to yell at him, but standing here waiting was really embarrassing. Once I shut my eyes tightly, he quickly closed the gap between us by pressing his lips to mine. They felt cold from him standing outside for so long, but the feeling warmed me up. I pulled my hand out of his, wrapped my arms around his neck, and pulled him closer. He did the same, but wrapped his around my waist. We stood like this for a few more seconds, then I pulled away. I tilted my head down, but my eyes looked up at him with a bashful smile tugging on my lips.

“Okay then,” he said, breaking eye contact and turning away again. “We should get going.”

He took my hand once again and continued our walk to school. When we arrived, we found Clyde and Jimmy standing by Craig’s locker.

“You guys, you will never believe what Clyde just t-t-told me,” Jimmy said when he spotted us. “Don’t tell any… any… Don’t tell anyone else, th-th-though!”

Jimmy had the biggest grin on his face, which contrasted with the unusually shy look on Clyde’s.

“Where’s Token?” Craig asked.

“I’m over here,” he called out to us as he made his way over. “Why are we all gathered over by Craig’s locker? Did I miss the memo?”

Clyde grabbed Jimmy by the face and whispered “don’t you fucking tell him” loudly before running off to class, earning a raised eyebrow from Token. We all looked at him with wide eyes. Jimmy didn’t have to tell us what was going on. We just _knew._

“Quit staring at me like that, guys. You’re creeping me out. What’s going on?”

“Nothing!” Jimmy replied as he turned around and dragged himself in a different direction, his crutched hitting the floor quickly and loudly. I was surprised that he wasn’t straining himself by doing that.

Token looked to us for answers, but Craig just shrugged.

“What do you know?” he questioned.  
“Nothing. Just two gays hanging around. Totally in the dark. Too gay to pay attention to anything,” Craig answered in a straight face and his monotone voice.

I elbowed Craig and sent him a glare, but it didn’t last. A snort forced its way out, leaving me unable to keep a serious face.

“You’re too gay to function, it looks like,” Token joked, though he still seemed a bit annoyed that all of his friends were hiding secrets from him.

 

During the class that Craig, Clyde and I shared, Craig passed me a note. I opened it and saw a crappy drawing of him unrealistically muscular and carrying me in his arms. The text on the paper read “Super Craig saves the day”. While the teacher had her back turned, he threw his pen across the floor to a few desks away from him.

“Seriously, Craig?” I whispered, though I crouched down and retrieved it quietly anyway. When I returned, I tossed the pen onto his desk, then returned to my notes. It didn’t take long for me to become bored from the lecture again, so I reached into my already open backpack to look over the entry I had written in my dream journal during the previous class. I felt the rings of my spiral notebooks, but no composition book. I pulled my backpack onto my lap and dug for it again. I didn’t leave it in my last class, did I? I mean, my name isn’t in it, so no one will know it’s mine. If it’s still there, I can pick it up without anyone finding out!

I heard a snicker behind me. My head snapped back, and I witnessed Craig reading my journal. I was caught between the urge to grab it back or just let him read it. Of course, the latter occurred, since I didn’t want to draw attention to myself. I’ll just take it back later. There’s not much I could do about it now. I say that, but inside, I was freaking out. I don’t think he’ll be creeped out, considering that he’s laughing and smiling as he read, but I still felt mortified by the thought of him reading my personal thoughts. The last two entries where I had purposefully brought him into my dream were in there, and he was going to know that I used his lucid dreaming idea to practice doing stuff with him!

As soon as the bell rang, I snatched the composition book out of his hands and smacked him on the head with it.

“Don’t go through my stuff, asshole!”

“I thought that couples weren’t supposed to hide stuff from each other,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

“Guys, please don’t fight,” Clyde whined, holding his hands up to prevent a possible beating. Although he wasn’t nearly as bad as my parents, he did gush over our relationship from time to time. He was also one of the people who were angry at Craig when he “cheated” on me, further proving his support for our relationship.

“So…” Craig hummed. “What will you be dreaming about tonight?”

I smacked him with my journal again. He was an idiot, but I signed up for this, so there’s no use in complaining.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had an idea for a final dream, but it became NSFW, which I'm incapable of writing. They're also 14 in this fic, so nope nope nope. Besides that, thank you all again for reading, leaving kudos, and the nice comments! I hope I can come up with some nice stories for you guys in the future!


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